Addiction
by RebelByrdie
Summary: Catherine ponders her new addiction. Companion peice to 'Love Hate Relationship' Warning: Femeslash. CS


Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own the television show CSI or the characters there of. I make no financial gain with this writing endeavor, so please don't sue…I'm a poor college student with fish to feed!

Warning: Femeslash and angst ahead. As to the former: A consensual relationship, of sorts, between two persons of the same sex…and the later, well, you'll see.

Rating: This is rated M for mature, not due to overly graphic content, but I find the subject matter requires such a rating.

Author's Note: A Catherine/Sara pairing…though not a fluffy one, quite angsty, in fact. _'Addiction'_ is half of a pair, the companion piece being _'Love-Hate Relationship'._ The former being Sara's POV and the later being Catherine's POV. I'd really like to hear feedback on this, I'm starting a larger Cath/Sara fic and would like some input on my portrayals of everyone's favorite CSIs. Thanks!

Addiction

A CSI Ficlet

A Companion Piece to _'Love-Hate Relationship'_

By RebelByrdie

I understand addiction. It comes in so many deadly flavors, a smorgasbord of self destruction and Vegas has them all: Alcohol, gambling, and my personal poison, cocaine. I dropped the habit, got my nose clean, but just like they say, I'll always be an addict. I will always be an addict, and now I have a new craving. I don't like it, my new addiction, but I am powerless against it. I am addicted to her.

At work we are volatile, I can't remember the last time we've had a civil conversation. I know her weaknesses and she knows mine and we exploit them, we play on them, trying to prove who the alpha-bitch of the graveyard shift really is. I am the bully, pushing her, berating her, wanting to see her breakdown. I've called her on things that I would never question if it came from someone else. I like to see her flinch.

Then, when the case is closed and we've left the lab, I seek her out. Powerless to resist, I go to her. I go to her and I take her. I leave my marks on her; her body is my canvas and my hands and mouth my paint. Together, like this there is no pain, no hard feelings. There is only pleasure and a need that has to be fulfilled. When I come down again, after she's driven my body to heaven and brought it crashing back to earth, I lay there, basking in my high. I lay there and I can't control myself. I go over her body, proud of the marks that I've left there. When she hisses in pain, I feel something deep inside of me flinch. I soothe her with my kisses, my body conveying what my words cannot. We burn each other with passion and then soothe with the same, she always has such a look of remorse in her eyes when she sees the marks she's put on me, the bruises. I wish I had that, all I have is pride and a fierce need to mark her again and again, where she can't hide them. I want everyone to see the marks and know that she is mine. When she slips off to sleep, I lay there, still wrapped in her arms, watching over her. In sleep, she is beautiful, angelic even. I run my hands through the dark silk of her hair and something inside of me is moved. Sometimes she has nightmares, those damn demons of hers. I calm her down and wait until she is sleeping soundly. Then I run away. Fear replacing the high, my addiction is fed for the moment, now I have to get away.

Every time I run, I tell myself that I have to stop. That this was the last time. I walk out to my car, my body aching pleasantly, my back a little sore from Sara's through fucking. I look up, one last time, at her window and I say it again. "I quit." As soon as I start the engine on my Denali, though, I can already feel withdraw setting in and I know I'm lying to myself. She has a hold over me and it is strong, stronger then that white powder had ever been. I am addicted to Sara Sidle and the scariest par isn't that there is no treatment, no tidy plan, and no meetings. The scariest part is I don't mind, and the worst part is I want her to need me too. Somewhere between hate and need, there might be love. There might be love and that terrifies me, because love is the strongest drug of them all.


End file.
